Bottles and Bruises
by sweettooth7
Summary: My entry for the CarylBYOB fanfic challenge.
1. Chapter 1

**Hi there! This is a fic that I submitted for the Caryl BYOB fanfic challenge back in November, in honour of the Caryl bottle episode. There will be one more chapter following this one. It is rated M because chapter 2 is very much not for little ones ; )**

**..._aaand_ the obligatory disclaimer that I own nothing : )**

**I hope you enjoy, and thank you for reading!**

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><p>"Oh…<em>oh<em>, God."

"Oh my God."

He heard the moans loud and clear from a few cells down, and rolled his eyes on instinct at the fact that Glenn and Maggie hadn't taken their little tryst into the guard tower like they usually did.

"Mmmmm…" The girl was moaning, and he almost ran right over to tell them to keep it the hell down, but was instantly stopped in his tracks when it hit him.

That was definitely not Maggie.

_What the fuck?_

He stopped dead in his tracks and his heart nearly stopped completely when he realized…

It was Carol.

_What the fuck?_

"We should stop. Maggie's gonna kill me."

Glenn.

_What the _fuck_?_

"Oh, come on," she moaned. "Just don't tell her."

"I can't _do_ that," he hissed. "This isn't fair to her."

"But just…oh, _God_," she moaned once more.

"I feel bad," Glenn whispered.

"Just shut up and enjoy this. Live in the moment, _Glenn_. We could be dead tomorrow. _Jesus_…" she finished off in another moan of intense gratification.

"Carol, stop. Just…_stop_ for a second. Jesus _Christ_…oh my god…"

"See? It's _good_, isn't it? Just let it happen," she trailed off in a whisper.

Her voice had taken on a teasing little giggle, and Daryl felt his blood boiling dangerously beneath his skin.

"I should tell Maggie. I should, right? I mean, don't you think she'd wanna be in on this?"

And Daryl was blindsided yet again, Glenn's words stopping him dead in his tracks.

"The _hell_ is goin' on in here," Daryl bellowed, his tense form looming suddenly in the cell doorway.

Carol and Glenn jumped in sheer terror at the sound of his booming voice, their faces whipping towards the individual who'd appeared abruptly and without any warning at all.

But what Daryl saw there was the absolute last thing he'd expected to see, and his anger dissipated in the briefest of instances as he almost dissolved into a fit of laughter.

Because they weren't scrambling to put their clothes back on or cover themselves up with a threadbare blanket.

Daryl would argue that they looked as though what they were doing was far worse than something like that.

His eyes raked over the two of them as he took in the sight before him. Glenn and Carol sat on the bottom bunk facing one another with legs crossed. Both looked as though they were about to suffer the gravest of punishments for the sin they were committing, and Daryl almost laughed at the expression of shock on Carol's face as she peeked over her shoulder at him, spoon hanging precariously out of her mouth.

"Um," Glenn started, his eyes darting from Daryl to the giant tub of peanut butter between them on the bed and back again.

And so Daryl played along.

"What the hell is that?" he asked with an even, angry tone.

Glenn gulped, and glanced at Carol to take the lead on this one. He'd listen to _her_…right?

"It's, um…" she searched her mind frantically for something to tell him. "We were going to tell you," she said quickly, her words now spilling out so fast she was stumbling over them. "We were. I swear. It's just…it was my fault. Don't blame him, it was all me, I _swear_."

"No, Carol, _don't_," Glenn interrupted.

"No, it _was_. It was me. Glenn wanted to share with everyone, he really did. But I didn't let him. It was me. All me. I'm the…bad influence here."

Daryl arched an eyebrow at her, still leaning against the doorway and watching with a mock fury that she had mistook for being genuine in her state of unadulterated remorse.

"Are you mad?" She whispered.

But he only looked at her. Shook his head slowly in disappointment as he glanced at Glenn and back at her.

"Daryl, I'm sorry," she pleaded. "I didn't mean to keep this from you. I know how much you…love…peanut butter."

He pushed himself off the door frame then, and stalked slowly over to the bedside, crouching down as he kept his gaze locked on Carol's. He took the spoon out of her hand gently and dipped it into the jar before bringing it to his lips.

And he felt a jolt of pure _something_ as her eyes darted down to his lips when he licked the spoon clean.

He held the spoon out to her and she took it, staring slack jawed as he stood once more.

"Y'all should be ashamed 'a yourselves," he muttered as he strutted out of the cell, leaving the two of them in a state of confusion and nearly traumatized from their racing heartbeats.

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><p>The following afternoon, Daryl had settled himself at a picnic table in the prison courtyard, preparing his kills for the supper preparations, and looked up when a figure approached and cast a shadow over his work.<p>

He looked up and squinted against the sun that was shining bright, directly behind Carol's head.

"What can I do for you?" he asked.

She lifted the flap of her bag and tilted it towards him, revealing the contents just barely. Daryl craned his neck only slightly until he could see the very tip of a bottle and knew full well what she was hiding in there for him.

He smirked up at her and she smiled back with a mischievous glint in her eye, bringing a finger up to her mouth to convey to him that he should keep quiet about this.

Daryl snickered and shook his head as she walked away, glancing back at him over her shoulder with a wink. The sunlight had cast something of a halo around her when she all but boasted of her bounty, the irony not lost on him as she'd seemed to be making a habit of sneaking around in the last few days.

Later that evening, after Carol had cooked the rabbit and rationed some into bowls and plates for everyone, Daryl swooped by and picked up their bowls, jerking his head towards the overturned bus.

She smiled and wiped her hands on her pants as she followed him eagerly, grabbing her bag from the chair nearby in one fluid motion.

He gave her a boost and she climbed up first, taking their bowls from him when she reached the top and offering her hand to help him up.

They settled quickly side by side, their knees touching and bowls sitting in front of them as he reached for her bag.

"You're bad, you know that?" he teased as he grasped the bottle inside.

She giggled in return. "Yeah, but you like me like this."

"After that stunt you pulled yesterday, you owe me this, woman."

She scoffed in mock annoyance and smacked his arm with the back of her hand. "Just _open_ it already."

And he was so excited, so he did just that, and moved the open bottle of barbeque sauce in front of them as they each leaned in and took in the heavenly scent. Carol groaned in appreciation and bounced in her seat in anticipation of what was to come.

He poured some over her meat and then did the same to his, pausing for a moment before pouring himself a little bit extra as she giggled.

"Cheers," they mumbled as they tapped their fingerfuls of saucy meat together and popped them promptly into their mouths.

And then the moaning started.

"Mmmm…"

"_Fuck_…"

"Oh my _God_…"

Conversation ceased entirely as they savoured each bite of their supper with breathy moans and explicit whispers, and they eyed one another when they were done as they each licked the remaining sauce off their fingers.

They put their bowls down beside them and lay back on the bus in unison, staring up at the stars, happy and sated.

"Damn," Daryl mumbled. "That was fuckin' amazing."

"Yeah," she breathed in agreement.

"Hey!" Glenn called suddenly from below. "You guys gonna share any of that?"

"_No!_" they called out, and Carol's burst of laughter echoed through the starry night.

Daryl watched her face as she laughed, a grin of his own lingering on his lips as she quieted and enjoyed the clear sky above them.

And maybe it was just the barbeque sauce working its magic – or the soft breeze, or the twinkling stars – but Daryl's hand found its way to hers, and he smiled at the heavens when she let him weave his fingers into hers.

His free hand blindly found the bottle of remaining sauce sitting idly beside him and he tossed it over the edge of the bus, hearing Glenn's cry of victory when it landed.

"I'll find us something good for next time," she whispered.

He squeezed her hand, and she squeezed his.


	2. Chapter 2

**Sooo...I _guess_ we can call this smut? I'm not very good at being graphic with this stuff. At least, it makes me super uncomfortable while I'm doing it ; ) This is the last chapter for this mini-fic. I hope you enjoyed : )**

**Thanks so much for reading! oxoxox**

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><p>It was the best night of his life.<p>

He didn't even have to think about it, it just was. And he replayed it in his mind over and over in that dark train car. Because after they'd shared that barbecue sauce over dinner and he held her hand like they were in middle school, he felt it all consume him so extremely that his body took over and he was just along for the ride.

"Think I got a bottle of my own that might do us some good," he'd murmured into the darkness.

She looked over at him and raised an eyebrow. "Are you hiding things from me, Daryl Dixon?"

"This comin' from the Peanut Butter Bandit?" He chuckled and sat up, pulling her along with him.

He remembered how quickly they climbed down from the bus and how he held her hand firmly as they walked swiftly towards the prison, ignoring the confused looks of those around them and their attempts to inquire about where they were headed.

They'd made a pit-stop at his cell, and he took her hand once more after he grabbed the bottle of Southern Comfort from his bag.

She didn't ask questions, didn't wonder where they were going. And in all the times he replayed this night in his mind, he'd never know it was only because it didn't really matter to her where they went. Because he was still holding her hand, and they were taking a little holiday together.

And when they'd arrived on the roof they sat on the ledge of the prison they called home, legs dangling freely below them as they took turns with the bottle.

"It's like a New Year's Eve party or something," she exclaimed happily. "All sorts of bottles flying around. Liquor, _barbecue sauce_..." she trailed off, wagging her eyebrows up and down suggestively, as though they'd just done something horribly naughty together.

"Like I died and gone to heaven," he smirked, peeking up at her through the fringe of his hair.

"It's been a pretty good day," she agreed with a smile, nudging her shoulder into his.

And he remembered that after only one other round of bottle-passing in silent contentment, the alcohol was already feeling its way through his system.

They'd played a short little game of telling one another random confessions about their lives – he'd been terrified of birds until he was at least twenty, and she'd drag a garbage bag full of stuffed animals around with her as a child because she didn't want any of them feeling left out – and then she'd suddenly leaned in and kissed him.

Right on the mouth.

Firm but soft, and lasting for only a beat. She drew back just barely and his eyes searched hers for the answer to his question.

And when all he saw was her smiling eyes looking back at him, he stood up again and took her hand before dragging her back through the prison and into his cell. He hastily covered the doorway with the sheet he'd hung only days before, thanking the universe for the perfect timing.

He remembered the way neither of them hesitated, each emboldened by the few sips of liquor that nudged them gently in the right direction. The way her fingertips felt on his bare skin as they brushed his shirt off his shoulders. They warm softness of her hips as his fingers gently lifted her shirt above her head.

He remembered the overwhelming sensation of his skin on hers when they wrapped their arms around one another, and the way every nerve ending in his body jolted to life at the contact.

He remembered how they bumped their heads on the top bunk as they clumsily lowered themselves to the bottom one in their haste, never allowing their lips to separate for even the briefest of instants.

He remembered the way she giggled when he'd moved his lips to her throat and how he'd responded by smiling into her neck before carrying on with the gentle nipping that had allowed him to taste the sweetness of her skin.

He remembered the way it felt when he'd touched her warm and wet centre for the first time, the way his heartbeat picked up triple-time and how his head was suddenly swimming. How he'd never imagined how something like that could feel _so incredible_, and how her soft whimpers and stuttering breaths were the most beautiful sounds he'd ever heard in his life.

He remembered the way he couldn't tear his eyes away from her face as he watched her hooded eyes and parting lips as her body responded to his touch, and how he kept tracing the delicate lines of her jaw with soft kisses.

He remembered the way it felt to be hovering over her, his hands gripping the sides of her middle as he kissed her stomach and traced a warm trail with his mouth up between her breasts, to her chest, her throat, the soft spot below her ear.

He remembered the way he grabbed her by the crook of her knee and how eagerly she responded when he hitched her leg over his hip as he settled himself between her legs. The way his breath was sucked clean from his lungs when the tip of his length brushed against her opening.

He remembered the sheer intensity and overwhelming rightness of the moment he slid inside of her for the first time. The way their eyes locked and their shuddering breaths mingled together between them. The way he had to just _hold on_ for a moment because it was all just too much.

He remembered how badly he wanted to stay there forever. Alone, in their own little corner of the world that no one else could ever touch.

He remembered feeling like he could almost cry as he moved steadily in and out of her, his emotions bubbling hot so close beneath the surface and doing their best to fuse them even more tightly together. How her hands tightened on his shoulders and slid up his neck and into his hair before pulling him gently down for a soft, breathy kiss.

He remembered how fluidly their bodies moved together.

He remembered how she guided his fingers down to between them and then way he brought her to the edge by rubbing her that way. The way he felt her quivering beneath him and trying so hard to keep as quiet as she could. The way the sheer happiness on her face was the perfect storm that pushed him over his own edge.

He remembered curling up next to her and falling asleep soundly, without a care in the world for who might have heard them or who would find them together in the morning.

He thought about how pigs' feet and moonshine were no match for barbeque sauce and Southern Comfort. That no fire would ever compare to the one that he'd always burn for her.

And as he crafted his makeshift weapon while they waited for their moment, he swore he would get out of there and that things would be different. He swore they'd start over – _they had to_ – and that they'd do it all together.


End file.
